


A Little Brighter

by DankestSuccLoona (orphan_account)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Blood and Gore, But it's Thomas, Gen, Gore, Insane John Laurens, Insanity, Knives, Murder, Thomas' name isn't addressed, hammers, this makes no sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 14:11:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DankestSuccLoona
Summary: Squish.





	A Little Brighter

**Author's Note:**

> I'll warn you again  
> This makes absolutely no sense  
> I'm so serious  
> But don't question it  
> This just an excuse to write a murder scene

John lost his count every time. 

 

All he had to do was count to twenty five. Twenty five stabs into the bastard’s chest and he could clean this all up. He was told to count to twenty five and then he was done with this fool. The man was coughing over and over, struggling to hang onto what life he had left. John lifted the small knife from out his chest for the millionth time. Jabbed it back in, watched as the man’s body flinched slightly.

 

And he started counting again.

 

_One._ The knife went in, came back out. Like normal. 

 

_ Two.  _

 

_ Three. _

 

_ Four. _

 

_Five._ John glanced at his clothes, covered with blood splatters. As expected.

 

_ Six.  _

 

_ Seven. _

 

_ Eight. _

 

_ Ten. _

 

Ten? _Nine._ John could count, he swore. He was simply distracted by the thrill of stabbing someone over and over, and over and over and over. 

 

_ Ten. _

 

_ Eleven. _

 

_Twelve._ The man was sure to be dead now, but who cared? Not John. Never John. He still had thirteen more to go.

 

_ Thirteen. _

 

_Fourteen._ John looked at the man’s face. Wide eyes. Shocked eyes.

 

_ Fifteen. _

 

_ Sixteen. _

 

_Seventeen._ The action started to become more of John lifting his arm up and then letting it fall.

 

_Eighteen._ The sound made by a knife going in and out of a man had morphed into a _squish_ -like sound.

 

_ Nineteen. Squish. _

 

_Twenty. Squish._ Five more. Just five more.

 

_ Twenty one. Squish. _

 

_ Twenty two. Squish. _

 

_Twenty four. Squish._ No. No cheating.

 

_ Twenty three. Squish. _

 

_ Twenty four. Squish. _

 

_Twenty five. Squish._ John looked to his left, saw the sledge hammer in the corner of the bathroom. Of course, he almost forgot. Standing up from off the floor, he made the few steps toward the hammer. Picked it up, and nearly dropped it. The repetitive stabbing must’ve wore his arm out. 

 

He lifted the sledge hammer over his shoulder.

 

“And one for good luck.”

 

John brought the heavy tool down onto the man’s head, effectively cracking his head open. 

 

Not really, but John would love to see that.

 

The sledge hammer made a thud sound as it hit the tile floor. John turned to face the mirror so he could look at himself. His freckles seemed to be painted a deep red, his hands and clothes sprinkled in pretty much the same color. 

 

John smiled and waved to his reflection.

 

He looked over at the small calendar on the wall, and used the blood on his hands to draw an x over the date April 13.

 

“The world’s a little bit brighter without you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sane I swear


End file.
